Reunion
by Retired 5.01.2012
Summary: Elita One is reunited with Optimus Prime, her life partner and mate. Gift fic for Plenoptic's birthday.
1. Chapter 1

Happy birthday, Plenoptic! I hope you enjoy!

This is part one of two. Part two is going to be a little bit, but it'll be more...fulfilling...than the tender, loving spark-merging that is in this chapter. ;)

(Couldn't resist it, but there's a bit of romance in there for Ratchet!)

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Elita One stared out of the viewport, her hand resting lightly on the sill. Beyond the thick protective glass lay the infinite expanse of space, dotted with bright, twinkling stars. The planet Earth lay suspended before her, slowly spinning on its axis. Elita moved closer to the window. Her mate and life parter, Optimus Prime, was only a few thousand kilometers away and was waiting patiently for her to arrive. Her exhaust blew steam across the cold glass. She wrote his name in the steam, and watched it disappear.

- _Firestar to Elita One -_

_- Elita One here -_

_- Our preparations are complete. We are prepared to enter the atmosphere -_

_- Excellent. Chromia and I will expect you in the bridge in one breem -_

_- Very well, Firestar out -_

Elita could not hide the smile on her face plates. After countless vorns of being separated from Optimus, she had nearly given up on seeing him again. Chromia gently placed one hand on her Commander's shoulder, squeezing it slightly. Elita brought her hand up and resting it on Chromia's.

"We're going home," she breathed, shuttering her optics and hanging her head. She struggled not to burst into joyous tears. Chromia shushed her quietly and pulled her into an embrace.

"I can't believe it either, Elita. I keep expecting to wake up and discover that it's all just a horrible dream," Chromia whispered quietly, allowing Elita to rest her head on her shoulder, "but it's not, we're going home. We're _going home_."

Chromia, as Lieutenant, knew only a fraction of the burden that Elita bore in her duties as Femme Commander. She didn't know how the femme had dealt with her separation from Optimus _and_ with her duties. Chromia herself had barely managed to ignore her spark's desperate cries for Ironhide's. Chromia didn't know how many times she had comforted Elita behind closed doors when the femme could no longer hide the grief she held in her spark, but now Elita was finally going to see Optimus again. The war had taken Elita's youthful vigor and turned her hard and bitter. It was spark-warming to see the hopeful glimmer in Elita's optics once more. For just a moment in time, Elita truly looked at peace.

Elita nodded, wiping the evidence of her emotional outburst from her optics. Firestar chose that moment to walk in through the doors. After a sharp salute and a soft greeting, the femme took her place at the helm. Elita nodded and slowly settled into her chair, crossing her legs. Chromia sat down beside Elita.

The femme was focused on the planet in the viewscreen, her optics moistened slightly. Chromia spoke softly, relaying the orders. Firestar started up the engines, gently guiding the nose of the ship into the atmosphere. Elita shuttered her optics, whispering a quiet thank-you up to Primus. Chromia gently placed her hand over Elita's, squeezing slightly.

"Optimus," Elita breathed, bowing her head. Firestar's expertise in piloting made the trip quiet, smooth, and strangely enough, uneventful. Normally, Firestar took every opportunity to show off her piloting skills, but this time around, she seemed to understand that this was not the time to show off. The landing gear disengaged with a clunk, and the ship settled, groaning wearily. Elita shakily stood, calling her femmes into the room. She glanced around sadly at the congregation of less than a dozen.

"When we first started our journey from Cybertron, we numbered at almost twenty femmes. Along the way, we lost eight of our sisters to combat and to spark-break. It has been an honor and a pleasure to command and to serve with you on this long journey. I pray that it will be the same here on Earth," Elita said, grasping Chromia's hand tightly, "now...now we are safely home, reunited with our friends, family, and mates. Thank you."

After her short speech, Elita made her way to the entrance of the ship. Chromia and the rest of the femmes lined up behind her, ready to see their new home. Elita led the way, slowly walking down the stairs. She looked around curiously, appraising the strange new things around her. She stopped when she saw the congregation of vehicles stopped just a few dozen yards away. Elita's vision blurred when Optimus began transforming. His transformation was just as beautiful and awe-inspiring as Elita remembered it. Parts of his armor seemed to melt away, sliding, twisting, and disappearing. His imposing hulk rose above those of his subordinates, and he stood proudly before his femme, waiting for her approval of his alternate form. Elita slowly made her way to him, her knee joints threatening to give out on her.

"Optimus," she breathed. When she finally made it to his side, he caught her hands in his. Elita sank into his warm embrace, weeping quietly. Her spark sang joyously, hammering against the sides of its box, demanding to be reunited with its other half. Optimus swept one arm around her lower back, hefting her against his broad chest plates.

"Elita," he whispered back, resting his foreplates against hers. Elita only nodded wordlessly, her shoulders shaking. She wept without shame, peppering his chest, neck, and face with kisses. Optimus's chest rumbled gently as he torturously pulled away from her sweet embrace.

"I wish I could hold you in my arms forever, Elita, but we must find you an alternate mode before we go back to the base," Optimus said gently, kissing her tenderly. Elita nodded, sighing happily when her wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled him close to him.

"Now, let me introduce you to my men," Optimus said, turning to face the group of mechs. Ironhide and Chromia had already disappeared. Elita made a note to remind Chromia of the rules, but decided not to say anything. The femme had gone through Pit and back, just like she had. She could let it slide for now.

"You already know Prowl and Jazz," Optimus said warmly, motioning to the mechs. Prowl bowed his head slightly while Jazz waved cheerfully.

"I'm certain that you couldn't ever forget Ratchet," Optimus said, his voice gentle and teasing. The large red-and-white mech grumbled over at Optimus before turning to Elita.

"You've over-exerted yourself, I can see the stress marks in your shell, and your energy reserves are quite low. Yes, you and Optimus were made for one another," Ratchet groused, though there was a small smile on his face plates. Elita gently placed her hand on Ratchet's arm.

"Good to see you too, Ratchet," she said warmly. Ratchet only nodded, his optics flickering over to the congregation of femmes behind Elita. His optics darkened upon seeing one of Elita's rookies. She was a very shy and pretty little femme. Elita suddenly grew stern when she saw the intention in his optics.

"Hands to yourself, Ratchet," she said, shaking one finger in his direction. Ratchet stared at her. He blinked at her, his expression innocent. Elita only shook her head.

"You know Bumblebee already, and there's the Twins, and that's First Aid, and Wheel Jack is to his left," Optimus said, naming off his staff. Elita only nodded, suggestively tugging at him with her spark. When he stopped in the middle of his sentence, she glanced up at him innocently, as though to ask 'what?' He raised one optic ridge before continuing on with his introductions. The next three hours flew by quickly as Elita introduced her femmes to the mechs, sternly glaring at Ratchet when his gaze lingered for a moment too long on pretty little blue femme. The reuninion could have lasted for another three hours, but Elita's spark was beginning to throb uncomfortably. She touched Optimus's hand gently, subtly trying to get his attention.

"Yes?" he asked softly. The grip on his hand tightened, and he glanced down. Elita's optics had darkened to indigo. She began to pull him toward the base gently, and he realized her intentions.

"Elita?" he asked, though this time, his gentle baritone voice was tinged with poorly hidden lust. He hesitated for just a moment, though it was an eternity for Elita. She knew that their actions tonight would be looked upon poorly, and quite frankly, she couldn't bring herself to care. Their sparks were ready to join after thousands of vorns of chastity. He followed her, drifting through the fog of love and lust that he had for the femme before him. The trip to the base seemed to take an eternity, an event only made longer by the knowing, curious, and prying glances that followed them.

He gently pulled Elita into his arms, kissing her tenderly, delving his glossa into her oral cavity. He eagerly reacquainted himself with the sweet contours of her mouth, hardly daring to believe that this was his Elita. Elita moaned quietly, her hands latching onto his head. Soft, feminine fingers ghosted across his audio receptors, teasing the sensitive equipment. The soft touch wrenched a deep groan from Optimus's vocal processors. His hand rose to cup the back of Elita's head while the other remained at her lower back, pinning her lower body against his. Deftly, he scooped her into his arms. Elita wrapped her arm around his neck, letting out a soft, girlish giggle. He carried his mate down the hallway and into the residential wing.

Elita kissed what parts of his chest she could reach, using her free arm to caress the seam in his chest plates. Optimus very nearly dropped her when she slipped her fingers underneath the windows in his chest. Elita let out another soft giggle, watching as Optimus vainly tried to compose himself. He stopped in front of a large door.

He glanced at her sheepishly. They hadn't done anything like this since they were young.

"Could you type the code in, please?" Optimus asked.

"You silly mech, how would I know your code?" Elita asked lovingly, returning her lip components to his chest. Optimus let out a soft, needy moan at her attentions.

"You know my codes, Elita. They haven't changed," Optimus managed to gasp out, his optics shuttered tightly. Elita's mouth components made a small 'o' before she turned to the keypad. With trembling fingers, she typed in the long string of numbers. The doors hissed open. Optimus wasted no time in hurrying inside. He carefully deposited his precious cargo on the recharge berth, surveying his mate.

Her optics were half-shuttered, dimmed with her arousal. Elita was propped up on her elbows, her slender pink thighs spread invitingly. Optimus gave an almighty shudder, struggling not to lose control right then and there. He slowly climbed onto the berth, watching as Elita slowly settled back. She sighed with content. Normally, she was the dominant one in the relationship, but she was more than content to allow Optimus full reign tonight. She wanted him to make love to her, not the other way around.

Soon, her soft sighs turned into needy moans as he trailed kisses up her shapely calves and along her inner thighs, bypassing her interface port to lavish attention on her abdomen. A plaintive moan erupted from her vocalizers when his lip components grazed the collar of her armor. The whispering heat from Optimus's vents caused burning, heated lust to ooze through her fuel lines. He leaned his weight onto his forearms so as to not crush her, and dotted her face with kisses. He whispered his love for her after each kiss, until Elita's optics began to sting.

Looking back on all of the lonely years, Elita didn't know how she had coped without her strong mate by her side. It all disappeared in an instance - there was no residual ache, no spark-wrenching grief, only all-encompassing love. The predominate pain simply vanished, replaced by their long-buried love and happiness.

"I love you, Optimus," Elita said quietly, her small pink fingers tracing his strong jawline. He dipped his head downwards obligingly, seeking the femme's touch.

"I love you more, Elita," Optimus responded, whispering while kissing away the tear that had managed to slide down her cheek plate, "I'll never let you go again, Elita, I'll never, _never _leave your side again. I'll always be here."

Elita could only nod as he continued whispering sweet nothings into her audio receptor. Her spark was ready to join with his, but not at the same time. Her spark was fluttering uncomfortably, struggling to come into cadence with Optimus's. He rubbed his chest against hers and realized that she was not ready to physically join with him. The seperation had taken its toll on their sparks, for their sparks took more than a few breems to reach harmony with one another. When Elita's chest plates parted for him without any external stimulation, he knew she was more than ready for him.

He shifted his weight while Elita wrapped her legs around his slender waist. She smiled at him encouragingly, eagerly anticipating the moment where they would become one. Optimus nodded slightly and snaked her arms up above her head, threading his fingers through hers, causing her chest to arch upwards slightly. Optimus pressed his chest against hers, shuttering his optics at the same time.

Their sparks recognized one another instantly and flew together with a bright, blinding flash of light. Elita arched against him, throwing her head back on the cushions beneath them. She sobbed incoherently as they hovered outside of their bond, her chest heaving with exertion. Optimus pressed his chest against hers harder, pinning her to the berth and pinning her spark beneath his. Her fingers tightened against his, and he responded in the same manner.

With a second flash of light, their sparks finally merged fully. Elita and Optimus instantly went off-line as their chests locked together. Their processes shut off completely, shearing them out of the physical world. They became one in essence and mind, sharing their pain and love equally. Optimus comforted Elita and Elita comforted Optimus, easing away one another's unease and uncertainty.

Their pleasure waned into content as they remained entangled in one another. The after-effects of the war disappeared. Their duties as Commander and Femme Commander disappeared. The only thing that remained was the pure love that they had for one another. All too soon, their programming began rebooting. Their sparks pulled away from one another, drifting back into their respective boxes slowly.

With a quiet whirr, their unseeing optics came online simultaneously. Elita kissed Optimus, slanting her mouth over his. Her glossa delved deep into his mouth, massaging his. Optimus let out another soft groan when he realized what she was after now. Optimus obliged, pinning her hands down firmly. The night was still young, and he intended to spend every possible moment of it to making love to his femme.

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There ya go, hun. I hope you enjoyed it. ^^


	2. Chapter 2

Uh, I'm going to try something :slightly: new here. All in the name of science, of course.

Plenoptic, blame for the corruption of my pure, innocent mind rests entirely on your shoulders – and all of your stories. ;)

And…uh…I kinda borrowed one of your ideas – mag pulsing (please don't kill me) - it's only so that Optimus can have his wicked, wicked way with poor defenseless Elita One. There's another naughty Ratchet bit in here, too, so enjoy that, too.

Other than that, read on at your own risk. Mature content here, folks.

And as for the identity of the femme in the previous chapter – take a wild guess as to who she is. ;)

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Elita sighed softly as Optimus's hands dipped southwards, caressing pleasure receptors with wild abandon. His nimble fingers skimmed over her bare, sensitive protoform, sending bolts of tingling pleasure through her entire being. She shuttered her optics, the silence in the room only broken by the rasp of metal on metal and the soft whine of cooling fans turning on. A soft whine broke past Elita's lip components. Her spark was begging to be joined with Optimus's again.

He sensed her need and trailed one finger lightly down the center of her chest. The seamless expanse of Elita's chest plates swelled outwards and broke apart, transforming outwards and out of the way, revealing her spark to his. It shone brightly. The femme's dark blue spark shone brilliantly, emitting the occasional impatient flash of golden light. Optimus shifted his weight onto his forearms, dropping his lip components to her audio receptor.

"I love you," he whispered. With her optics still shuttered and offline, Elita nodded weakly, unable to respond verbally. Optimus took her silence as submission, and opened his chest plates. The radiant cobalt light poured outwards, meshing with the golden light from Elita's spark. Optimus couldn't help but to feel the pang in his spark as he observed his mate.

They had been separated for longer than the humans had even existed. Perhaps even longer. He had stopped counting the vorns when she had given her last transmission before switching over to radio silence. She had even masked her spark from his during the latter half of the war. Femmes were precious beings before the war, but after the war had progressed, femmes were even rarer. A femme was a precious for both sides, capable of producing sparks with minimal help from the AllSpark. Once the failing Decepticon army realized that they had lost the AllSpark, they had taken every measure to secure a few dozen females. He had heard more than a few stories of femmes initiating a system failure while the 'Con joined with them - the process extinguished both sparks nearly instantaneously.

Elita, almost as though she sensed what he was thinking about, raised her hand and caressed Optimus's cheek plate, gently reminding him where his attention should be. Optimus snapped out of his thoughtful daze and returned his hands to her body. Elita snuggled closer to him, purring happily as his nimble fingers slipped between their bodies. With a mischievous smirk, he slid the armor covering her interface port aside. She was already warmed up and ready to go. His smirk turned into a grin when his fingers probed deeper inside.

"Oh…frag…" Elita moaned, tossing her head back on the cushions. Her fingers flexed on his shoulder guards, the metal squeaking softly in protest. Optimus reached down to his own interface port, pulling out the thick cable. It took him a few moments to start the programming, readying himself to transfer the data to his femme. Optimus gently thrust his hips toward Elita's, pushing the cable into her port with a little difficulty. Elita was much smaller than him; thus the very tight fit.

He buried his face in her shoulder, purring happily as her programming recognized his and dropped her firewalls. He snaked one hand upwards, sliding his fingers into her chest cavity. Elita let out a strange noise, a mixture of a surprised squeal and a groan of pleasure. He had never done anything like that, and she made a mental note to ask where he had learned that technique.

Elita writhed, her processor struggling to keep up with both stimuli – her mate's fingers were mag-pulsing her spark repeatedly while his interface cable was nice and thick and throbbing where it lay buried in her port, sending the occasional deluge of information. Both pleasure centers in her body were overloading her processor with her mate's clever stimulation. Elita let out another keening cry, arching into those long, sinfully talented fingers buried in her spark. When Optimus uploaded into her systems, it was too much for Elita to handle. She arched into his chest, an impressive scream of pleasure erupting from her vocalizers. Her vocal processor shorted out with a burst of static.

Her entire body tensed, her mouth open in a silent cry as she overloaded again. Optimus had cleverly built up her external stimulation to a level where he knew her processor couldn't handle. The result was the most delicious overload – or set of _overloads _– that Elita had ever had in her life. The information had been dammed up in her processor as it locked down under the intense streams of information, and now that she was able to sift through it all, the pleasure that her body perceived from the datastreams slammed into her like a wall.

Repeatedly.

Seeing that his femme couldn't take much more, Optimus relented. He gently pulled out of her interface port, wincing as the heated cable retracted back into its holding spot. Elita shook in his arms as her energy waned. She dropped back onto the berth with a groan, steam hissing out of every available vent as her systems struggled to bring her body back to a safe temperature. He kissed Elita's forehead gently, giving her a concerned glance.

"Too much?" he asked quietly. Elita gave him a very intense glare.

"I can handle anything you throw at me," she rasped out, her voice laced with static. Optimus made a concerned noise, pressing his lip components against her shorted vocal processor. Her optics started to brighten as she switched over to her secondary energon reserves.

"Sorry, love," he said. Elita rolled her optics, using one shaking finger to poke his still-parted chest plates.

"You haven't overloaded," she said flatly. Optimus shrugged and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it, Elita. All that matters to me is that you are satis – "

"Finish that sentence, Optimus, and you won't be getting any more interface for the rest of your life," she snapped. Her optics brightened as her systems and body made a relatively quick recovery. Optimus marveled at her energy. He'd forgotten that femmes had secondary energy storage systems, but he didn't know how she would want to continue interfacing after all five of her previous overloads. She yanked his head down for a kiss, thrusting her glossa past his parted lips. Optimus groaned happily against her lips, joyous that he wasn't going to have to overload himself.

He kissed a path down to her throat, nibbling along the exposed wires and lines. He peeked into her chest cavity. Her spark was shining brightly, even emitting the occasional lightning bolt of electricity. He reached out to her spark, but she smacked his hand away, shaking her head. Elita let out a frustrated, plaintive whimper when he continued stimulating her.

"Are you going to take me or not?" she asked, her voice thick with anticipation. Optimus gave her a stern, wordless glare. He was going to make sure that her spark could handle joining with his, especially with all of their previous activities. He wasn't going to neglect his femme's health for the sake of pleasure. If he had to wait until tomorrow or until the middle of next orn for his overload, he would wait if it meant that she was thoroughly recovered. Elita dropped her head back on the cushion, another ragged moan tearing itself out of her vocalizers. Optimus fingered her spark box, testing her readiness to join.

Electricity arced outwards, kissing his fingers with tingling pleasure. Elita's moans grew in volume and in desperation, and it was then that he knew she was ready to join once more. Optimus tenderly kissed her, lowering his chest to hers. Their sparks flew at one another, joining and meshing with an excruciatingly bright flash of light. Optimus gasped wordlessly, off-lining his optics.

It felt like he was on fire. Slag that – it felt like his body was melting from the inside out, intense, pleasurable fire burning along his fuel lines and neural network. Cooling fans shrieked under the immense strain. Waves of heat rolled from their entangled bodies, bending and rippling the light in the room. Elita was in the same condition as he, her hands clawing desperately down his back, scraping long streams of paint from his frame. Her overload slammed into her. Elita screamed as her grip on Optimus tightened. She could hear his armor groaning in protest but she honestly could not bring herself to care. Higher and higher the pleasure crested until it finally broke over them both washing over mind, body, and spark. Elita slumped, her optics fluttering close of their own accord. She could not speak for a long time afterwards. Optimus gathered her in shaking arms, drawing her close to his chest plates. He rested his chin on her head, his engine rumbling unsteadily. He too, could not speak. She laid in his arms with her head against his spark, listening to the strong thrumming of his fuel pump and engine.

Elita laughed weakly when she heard Ironhide vocalize his pleasure in the room beside theirs. After a few moments, Ironhide fell silent, and all Elita heard was the soft pings as their armor cooled. Then she heard the soft feminine whimpers from the _other_ side of the room, whimpers that grew into an impressive scream that had Elita's optic ridge rising. Her scream nearly drowned out a very masculine, very deep and contented, Ratchet-esque moan.

"I'll deal with him later," Elita murmured quietly, ignoring Optimus's choked laughter. She poked his chest sternly.

"You should remind Ratchet that he is your chief medical officer, not Official Femme Deflowerer of the Autobot Army," she said grumpily, though her tone of voice was belied by the twinkle in her optic. Optimus didn't know whether to be horrified with Ratchet or to give him a badge. The sudden image from her mate made Elita burst into giggles, ones that soon died down into silence. Elita buried her face into Optimus's neck, her engine revving sleepily as her need for recharge caught up with her. She definitely needed to deal with Ratchet later.

"Duly noted," Optimus managed to say, his voice deep with exhaustion. Elita succumbed to recharge minutes later. Optimus took great care to arrange her comfortably on her side before lying down beside her, wrapping his arm around her waist. He shuttered his optics and fell into a long, dreamless recharge, his spark fluttering happily as it pulsed in time with Elita's.


End file.
